Horse Hoarding
by AcademySenseiIruka
Summary: Arthur has a problem and is in desprate need of an intervention. When he relapses, will Charles still be able to help him?
1. Chapter 1 The Addiction

It all started when his beloved horse, Boadicea died. She was a marvel among horses and Arthur knew it would be impossible to find any horse capable of replacing her. But Arthur was an outlaw, and as such, he needed a horse to survive. Going without was simply not an option.

Finding the Mahogany Bay Tennessee Walker in the barn of the Adler ranch had seemed like kismet at first but when Arthur took a moment to put two and two together he realized who it must have belonged to and he immediately offered the horse to Sadie.

The new widow just glared at him as if he were pointing a gun at her and scoffed, completely denying ownership of it. "Shoot the damn thing for all I care." she hissed.

That was all Arthur needed to be convinced the old Bay must have once belonged to her husband. That the idea of seeing it ridden again by anyone else was tantamount to blasphemy in her eyes.

Feeling guilty, Arthur was now in the position of not begin able to ride the animal but he also didn't feel it was right to sell it. (just in case Mis Adler changed her mind and wanted it back.) Fortunately, his problem was resolved a short while later when Hosea offered him a beautiful black shire to go hunting. So Arthur boarded up the Walker and rode the Shire and that was the end of it.

That is until he had to chase Jimmy Brooks down in Valintine and was forced to borrow a steady silver tailed American Standardbred Buckskin to keep the skittish man from reporting them all to the authorities. But when Arthur rode back in, he couldn't find the gentleman he'd taken the horse from. So he rode around Valintine for a bit, half-heartedly asking after the man and when he came up with nothing, he naturally decided he may as well keep that horse too. After all, once you pay for the boarding of one horse, what's one more? right?

Even so, things didn't really start to get out of hand till Havier invited Arthur to a home robbery for some undesirables just north of Valentine. During the shootout Arthur noticed a beautiful Overo American Pant and few shots later, he also noticed an impressive looking Red Chestnut Stockfold Punch. After the shooting had died down Arthur pulled out the two and examined them side by side. Even then he found it especially difficult to choose between the two. So, Arthur waited for Havier to head back to camp and, after taking far to long to decide, Arthur decided to just take them both. 'What could possibly be the harm in that?' he thought.

Well, turns out a lot as Arthur found out as he happened upon a man struggling with his horse's shoe. When Arthur approached he called out to the man, trying to be friendly, and as the man stood his horse startled and kicked out, striking the man in the head and killing him instantly.

Knowing it was his fault the horse was now alone, Arthur decided to adopt the frightened Belgian Draft as well. And considering he was already on his way to the stables with the other two horses, it was just as easy for him to keep it. So he did.

After that, Arthur took custody of a brilliant little Gray Kentucky Saddler he'd proudly liberated from some O'Driscolles. Tho, to Arthur's credit he had every intention of selling the spunky little mare but she'd been with the O'Driscolls. Who knew what they had done to her, so Arthur figured he'd only keep her for a bit. Show her some affection and a gentle hand before he parted with her. Arthur couldn't see anything wrong with that arrangement, provided he only kept her temporarily.

Not long after he came across a beautiful Wild Bay Mustang and Arthur was in aww of the splendid animal. After roping the Stallion and getting it to trust him, Arthur knew he was hooked. It quickly proved to be the ideal horse for him, steady, brave and noble. Perfection on hooves. Besides, it reminded him of Boadicea. If he squinted his eyes tight and just listened. Arthur adored the horse so much that when he happened upon another Mustang, this time a Gurell Dun, he decided to catch that one too.

Later that same day he came across a little Morgan gelding being beaten by its owner. Arthur immediately stepped in and rescued the Flaxen Chestnut, knocking it's owner fat and beating a hasty escape with his newest horse. And after the treatment he'd just witnessed, he had to keep it. Arthur just couldn't bring himself to sell an animal that had endured such cruelty. Besides, they shared the same name, which made them practically family.

A few days later Arthur was tracking down the legendary wolf when he came upon a regal-looking Blanket Appaloosa. It's spotted pattern wholly unique of any horse he'd ever seen and Arthur instantly fell in love. Abandoning the legendary wolf, Arthur threw the lasso around the equine's neck and as it struggled, Arthur dug his heels in and reeled it in like a fish. It reared and bucked till Arthur calmed it with soft words and gentle pats, being sure to slip in the occasional piece of mint. As the horse became accustomed to Arthurs's weight along it's back, Arthur steered the beast south. "That's a good girl." he cooed in her ear.

He was brushing the Appaloosa at a stabled when, out of the corner of his eye, Arthur noticed the wild Sorrel Hungarian Halfbreed. It's long tail flicking as it grazed, standing tall and proud in the open field. Arthur felt an itch to catch it and hopping on the back of his new Appaloosa, he bolted towards the greener pastures where he saw the Halfbreed roam.


	2. Chapter 2 The Intervention

Every time Charles saw Arthur he was riding a different horse. At first it didn't seem like anything. Arthur was likely finding horses, training them up and selling them for the highest price. But then Charles overheard Dutch harass Arthur about not putting anything into the camp funds.

Was Arthur building a side business but not giving the camp it's cut?

Now that did not sound like Arthur. Arthur was constantly bringing in meat for the camp. Using two or more horses to bring in big game and pheasants and rabbits. More often than not, the man was hauling in more food than needed. Pearson obviously didn't want to admit it but Charles got the impression the man simply didn't have enough recipes or room to cook all the meat Arthur was bringing in. The cook was just too embarrassed and out of his depth to admit otherwise but Charles and some of the others had noticed the meat buried out behind his wagon.

On top of that, each time Charles saw Arthur, he looked more haggard and weary, more and more undone and exhausted. He looked thinner than usual and his clothes were worn and unkempt. His hair was becoming long and wild. He was clearly working hard, so that begged the question, what was he doing?

Normally Charles was not the sort to get involved. Whatever Arthur was up to was his business... And yet curiosity drove him to inquire as to how Arthur had come across such a gorgeous White Arabian. To which Arthur's replied, "well, found him up in Coulter and after being stuck up there myself, I figured I just couldn't leave um." Charles had intended to question him further but Arthur quickly excused himself, saying he was close to finding the location of some local treasure. Should be a good haul he had said... except Charles was beginning to doubt if Arthur was even donating to the camp anymore.

It bothered Charles more than a bit to doubt the word of his friend. Charles knew Arthur was a better person than a low life lier but Arthur's decisions were his own and so Charles tried to let the matter drop... except the next time he saw Arthur, he was riding a Strawberry Ardennes.

So finally, his curiosity and concern nagging him, Charles couldn't stop himself when he saw Arthur sneak out of camp the next night. Charles unrepentantly hopped on Taima and chased after him. He tracked the man to a glade south of Rodes and just past the lining of trees Arthur dismounted... And Charles was stunned.

Horses EVERWHERE!

There must have been hundreds of horses surrounding the cowboy as Charles rode up.

"Arthur!" he called, no longer willing to remain silent about his friend's odd behavior. "What the HELL are you doing?"

Arthur whipped around, hands still stroking the neck of a Blond Chestnut Belgian Draft. "Charles, um ah." he fumbled for an explanation. "See I was-"

Charles hopped off Taima and began wading through the sea of horses.

"See, I I found um and Valentine stables were all full up as was Strawberry and the one North of Emerald Ranch and the one in Annesburg... and Saint Denise."

As Charles neared he simply leaned on one leg and crossed his arms to get his point across and Arthur stopped.

"Arthur, my friend, You have a problem."

Arthur just hung his head, "I know. But I just can't choose. Every horse I meet along the way, I just wanted to keep um all, ya know?" The cowboy looked up expectantly, hoping to be understood.

Charles let out a sigh. "I know you love horses but this isn't right. It's not fair to them and it's not healthy for you. Look at you! You must be spending every waking moment hunting and robbing just to feed them."

Arthur just sighed, refusing to look at Charles and instead lovingly stroked the neck of a nearby Blue Roan Nokota. "I just can't find any horse to replace Boadicea. Even with all these horses, I just can't do it."

"Oh Arthur," Charles said walking close enough to put his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "It's not about replacing her, it's about finding a horse to carry on what she couldn't finish. She would want you to have a good horse because that is what you deserve... but Boadicea would not want this." Charles said gesturing to the horses all around them. "I'll help you, Arthur, if you let me." Charles offered.

To which Arthur readily agreed.

Despite having his cooperation, it still took Charles quite a while to convince Arthur to limit himself to a reasonable number of horses. Eventually, they decided on four. And after far more debate than Charles considered necessary, Arthur eventually narrowed down his final four to the Gold Turkoman, the Revers Dapple Roan Nokota, the Black Arabian, and the Amber Champagne Missouri Foxtrotter. All equally impressive horses in Charles opinion.

Arthur and Charles then spent the following weeks selling off all of Arthur's other horses and rehousing them to good owners. The money was then divided between Arthur and the camp funds. Dutch's jaw about dropped off when Arthur handed him the sack of bills that made a bank heist look like petty theft. (and that was just the money that couldn't fit in the lockbox.)

Afterwords, Arthur admitted he felt much better having fewer horses to maintain and wasted no opportunity at repaying Charles for his generous intervention. As for Charles, he found his reward in seeing Arthur so happy. Arthur was healthier and stronger, well-rested and in much better spirits.

And so, thanks to Charles, Arthur's problems were solved... that is until Hamish died. With his last breath, the hunter begged Arthur to take care of Buell; his Cremello Gold Dutch Warmblood... Now I ask you, How was Arthur suppose to refuse a man's dying wish?


	3. Chapter 3 The Relaps

Arthur had made a promise to Charles that he would only keep four horses, and yet here he stood in the Van Horn Stables with five horses.

He felt like he was sinking in quicksand as he stared at the recently acquired Cremello Gold Dutch Warmblood and then back to his Revers Dapple Roan Nokota and Black Arabian, and then over to his Amber Champagne Missouri Foxtrotter.

The only horses he had decided to keep was the three-year-old Gold Turkoman gelding he'd affectionately named McCree, after a cowboy he read about in a dime novel. The horse also had a needy personality. Always sticking his head out of the stall to investigate who was coming and if Arthur was going to ride him. Often the Turkoman would give a loud booming snort of happiness when he wanted something. Usually attention.

But choosing to keep one hardly made Arthurs's life any easier. He paced as the stable owner grew more and more frustrated by Arthurs's lack of decisiveness and just before he got kicked out, Arthur made a decision. Tho the Black Arabian was a beautiful horse, it was far too skittish to be a safe riding horse for an outlaw who regularly traveled alligator filled swamps and got into frightening shootouts. No, Arabians certainly weren't bombproof horses.

As the black horse walked away from Arthur for the final time, he felt a stab of regret. That horse was the fastest horse Arthur had ever had the privilege to ride and without having Charles there to stop him, he called the stable master back and paid for an extra stall.

Making his way back to camp Arthur felt relieved he didn't have to part with any of his horses, tho he did feel a twinge of guilt. Charles had helped him so much when things got out of hand last time but... as long as Arthur kept things under control, Charles wouldn't have to find out. So it was fine.

McCree gave an especially loud snort as Arthur left the woods and entered the vast prairie of the Heartlands. The endless field was certainly McCree's favorite place to ride and Arthur had to constantly keep the excited young horse from bolting up the long paths in front of them.

Arthur patted his horse fondly and spoke soft reassurances before letting McCree have his way. They dashed up a nearby hill, McCree whinnying like a colt had Arthur smiling like a schoolboy.

This was a horse in their element Arthur marveled. This is what horses are for. To feel that freedom between rider and horse. As they galloped, Arthur began to fantasize about his dream horse. As brave as a Mustang as fast as an Arabian and as healthy as an Ardaniese. He closed his eyes and stood upright in the saddle as the wind blew around him. Arthur's thoughts took him to a memory of a heard of horses splashing through a shallow pond. As they crossed the Heartlands he imagined the speckled pattern on the Silver Dapple Pinto he'd last seen with Albert Mason.

Perhaps he could still find it? Arthur thought, unconsciously veering his horse towards the marsh.

It had taken quite a while but finally, Arthur had calmed the snorting Missouri Foxtrotter beneath him. Arthur's heart sored as it pranced around, still testing its rider.

Arthur had never felt such an adrenalin high from anything in his life. Not a bank heist or shootout. This was the happiest he'd ever been, he couldn't wait to ride his new Pinto to camp. He cringed as he realized that wasn't a very good idea at the moment. Arthur pulled the horse to a stop and whistled for McCree.

McCree trotted over with his spirits high, his ears perked and tail up. Arthur had already decided what horse he would keep. Arthur would sell the other Missouri Foxtrotter. As hard as it was for him, Arthur just couldn't keep them both.

McCree bumped noses with the new Pinto curiously and the Pinto responded by bobbing her head in excitement. Yes, Arthur grinned down at them, these two would get along splendidly. And that would be the end of it. He'd sell the other Foxtrotter... but he'd deal with it later tho. For now, he just wanted to monitor the introduction between McCree and his new horse.

A week later and Arthur docked his boat on the sandy shore south of New Auston. He hauled his saddle up onto his shoulder and made his way up to Rio Del Lobo Rock. To the place the legendary Tiger Striped Mustang had been rumored to live. Arthur worked quickly, not wanting to waist a moment longer than he had to in an area where he had such a high bounty.

Pulling out his binoculars, Arthur scanned the area until he saw the rumored horse that had haunted his dreams like a ghost. Arthur felt a thrill running through him as he took in the sight of the telltale tiger stripes decorated the legs as it grazed.

Hastily, Arthur applied a healthy amount of cover scent lotion and kept low and quiet, as he approached the horse. Despite Arthurs's best efforts, it perked it's head up and darted away.

"Easy, boy," he called, keeping his voice calm and soothing. Eventually, the horse stopped and turned towards him, perhaps out of curiosity. Arthur kept his motions slow and sure, as non-threatening as his voice. Finally, he was an arm's length away and Arthur had to fight off the growing excitement as the horse stuck out its nose to investigate him. Giving it a friendly pat on the neck Arthur swung up and rode the thrashing beast till it quieted down. He rode the animal back to his saddle and in one of the most rewarding moments of his life, he threaded the straps through the girth belt and cinched it tight and secure.

Over his shoulder Arthur heard someone shouting after him and wasted no more time, he rode the Mustang north, not stopping as bullets sored overhead. The Mustang handled the commotion like a seasoned warhorse, galloping full steam ahead. Arthur was elated as they entered Strawberry. He cheered like a cowboy bringing in the heard, they were safe and free.

Arthur leaned down and gave a healthy pat on the horse's neck as he whispered a fond "Good boah" to congratulate the Mustang. Certainly, they could have gone to the Strawberry stable but Arthur wanted more time to come up with the perfect name for his horse.

By the time they arrived, Arthur had settled on the name Rayar (rrah-yahr) meaning the Spanish word for 'striped'. He found it very fitting and knew Havier would get a kick out of hearing his poor pronunciation of it.

Riding up, Arthur was eager to pay for another stall and nameplate but as he looked at the stockyard, Arthur saw it. A beautiful and proud Revers Dapple black Thoroughbred standing in the 'for sale' pen. Arthur's hands worked faster than his head as he automatically paid for, not one but two stalls, as well as the purchase price of the impressive Thoroughbred.

It wasn't until after leaving town that Arthurs's guilt finally hit him. He slowed to a canter on the back of his new filly and realized he was in too deep once more. Taking a deep breath, Arthur prepared himself for what he needed to do. He rode in circles, trying to sort out what horses to keep and what to part with. Each combination of horses left an unsavory taste in his mouth.

Finally, he rode towards camp.

* * *

"I'm not your parent Arthur," Charles said, his back to him. "You can do what you want."

"I know but."

Charles continued to hammer in the wheel of the wagon and when Arthur didn't continue, he took a steadying breath and looked at him. "I'm worried is all. You had hundreds of horses and couldn't see it wasn't healthy. Arthur, you have an addiction. That is why we agreed on four horses, and ONLY four, not eight."

"I know." Arthur agreed solemnly, looking down at his boots. "It's not something I planned and I tried, Charles but I, I."

Charles set the hammer down and approached Arthur slowly, his voice low and gentle as he spoke, "What is it Arthur?"

"I need help narrowing the eight back down to four."

"Under one condition," Charles said. "If I help you, you won't pick up any more horses, ok?."

Arthur nodded, "Deal."

"Alright," Charles said, making his way over to the horses. "Let's start with a simple question. What horse do you look forward to riding the most?"

"The Mustang, no, the Silver Dapple or the Reverse-"

"Arthur stop! I'm sorry, that was a bad question." Charles sighed, "How about this... If the barn was on fire and you could only save one, what horse would you save?"

"Silver Dapple Pinto," Arthur said confidently. "And the-"

"No Arthur, just one." Charles corrected and Arthur nodded sadly. "Why the Pinto?"

Arthur scuffed his foot in the dirt like a kid as the thought. "The Pinto is the most well rounded, it's fast but sturdy and handles a shootout pretty well. It's an all-around great horse. Plus it's a horse I've had my eye on for a while now."

"Ok, good answer," Charles said as he reached out to Tamia and gave her a nice gentle stroke along her neck.

"Actually," Arthur began hesitantly, "I think I've already figured out what horses I want to keep." he admitted and Charles perked up curiously. "The Silver Dapple Pinto Missouri Foxtrotter, the Tiger Striped Mustang, the Revers Dapple Thoroughbred, and the Gold Turkoman."

Charles calked his head to the side, his hand on Tamia stilled as he looked at Arthur. "Seems you've made up your mind, Arthur. I'm impressed." he smiled gently to Arthur and the cowboy just blushed and ducked his head.

"The problem is I can't get rid of the Dutch Warmblood."

"Why not?"

"A friend left it to me. It was his dying wish for me to take care of it. I can't sell it."

"Alright," Charles said as he picked up a brush to run along Tamia's side. "I understand your situation, Arthur. But doesn't that mean rehousing him to a good home would fulfill this promise?"

"I think so..." Arthur nodded, a small smile forming on his lips tho Charles didn't seem to notice.

"So, all you really need to do is find someone who would treat him with the utmost respect. Someone you trust, who would love him and provide for him for the rest of his days." Arthur watched as Charles brushed Tamia's neck fondly. A wistful smile on the man's face as he doted on his own horse.

Arthur smiled cheekily. "You're right, Charles. I knew you'd be the right person for the job."

Charles blanched, backing away from his friend, "No Arthur. I-"

"Come on, you're the best person I know. If you took him I'd have no doubt I'd have kept my promise." Without waiting for a response, Arthur whistled for an unseen horse.

Charles had almost found his voice again when he saw a cream-colored horse, wearing a ridiculously huge bow on his neck, galloping towards them.

"Happy Birthday Charles!" Arthur sang as he slung his arm around Charles's shoulder.

Charles was quiet as he faced the impressive-looking Dutch Warmblood.

Noticing how uncomfortable Charles was, Arthur slowly withdrew his hand. "Look Charles, if you don't want it that's fine, I'll figure something else out. It's not a problem. I-I just thought-."

Arthur halted his rambling when he heard Charles laugh. "A deal is a deal, Arthur." Charles admitted shaking his head. "I promised to help you get back to four horses and if this is what you've come up with, then I'll gladly help you out. But" Charles placed special emphasis on the word 'BUT' "The other three horses will be sold tomorrow, alright?"

Arthur nodded happily. "Deal."


	4. Chapter 4 The Recovery

Recovery

It was all a bit surreal for Charles as he rode away from the Marston ranch for the last time. A heavy melancholy draped around him like a blanket, keeping him numb to the warmth of the morning.

He pushed up North towards Strawberry and all the while he revisited the memories he had with the Vanderlind Gang. Blackwater, and how everything went all wrong, rescuing Sean... Charles didn't realize he had stopped to look down over the river. Poor Sean, he didn't deserve that.

He kicked Buell up into the marching rhythm of a trot and prepared to leave this life behind, to start a new because Charles was no longer an outlaw, none of them were. John now owned a ranch and was finally living the fulfilling life Arthur had always wanted for him. The life agreed with John in a strange way. The pitchforks never fit his hands as naturally as a gun but the home he had built matched him somehow. Like this was where John was always meant to be. Charles felt it. A calm of belonging for John, Abigale and Jack, even Uncle belonged together. The thought made Charles shake his head. John was finally a father, too bad Arthur wasn't around to see it.

Charles turned west as he reached the town of Strawberry. Heading instead towards lake Owanjila, not far from town.

The dusty trail led to a secluded hilly terrain with large slabs of stone that made traction for Buell a bit difficult. It was a bit awkward maneuvering around trees and slippery rocks. Charles considered turning back, the stories must have been wrong, there is no way a... But then Charles saw it. A beautiful blood-red coat of a wild Arabian.

Charles cautiously dismounted several yards away and quietly approached the beast. The horse grazed lazily, unaware of Charle's intent. Taking a page from Arthur's book, he kept the lasso in reserve. Instead, he slunk closer, crouched till he was just about two meters away.

"Hay there." he called out to it. Charles kept his voice gentle as he continued to allow his voice to sooth the startled equine. "easy there, it's alright." He repeated his words, persuading the beautiful animal to remain where it was. "That's it, you're ok." He murmured, slowly stepping up alongside its shoulder.

When Charles was able to pat its neck, he quickly hopped on it's back and as it kicked and bucked, Charles tried his best to calm the animal. Eventually, it grew tired and as they both stood on the side of a mountain panting, Charles felt happiness, triumph seep into his being. He had tamed a wild Arabien, it's red glossy coat glistened under Charles's hands as he stroked the magnificent animal. Arthur would have loved to see that, he though.

He directed the newly acquired horse down the hill towards Buell and gave them each a chance to become acquainted as he set up camp.

It wasn't often Charles allowed himself to preen from his own skills, but he was overjoyed by seeing the flame-red mare munching on the grass beside his Warmblood stallion. He slept sound and satisfied that night and the next morning he set off early. This time he rode Buell and instead whistled for the Arabian to follow.

Charles rode for another half-day before he set up another camp. He took special care to brush down the impressive flashy red coat, checked it's teeth and conformation before whistling again for it to follow.

They traveled further Northwest and pasted Colter completely in on day, avoiding the need to rest in the familiar old cabins. The mare's coat was a marvel as it stuck out so starkly against the white backdrop of snow. The gorgeous animal she was, she'd be perfect for what Charles needed her for.

Eventually, they descended the other side of the mountain and Charles turned towards a familiar path. "Stay here girl." Charles said with a grin and began to whistle the Ballad of Odis Miller.

"Charles, That you?" A gruff voice called from a clearing at the end of the trail.

"It's me." Charle replied simply, he couldn't help the mischievously smile across his face as he dismounted and wrapped Arthur into a warm hug.

"Welcome back. How's John?" Arthur asked, tense and impatient, high strung with worry over his brother.

"He's doing well." Charles assured, patting his shoulder and pulling Arthur down the trail. "He has a ranch now and well, he finally married Abigail."

Arthur beamed like a proud papa, "He did?" but the expression swiftly changed to something more like bittersweet fondness.

Charles didn't want to make things worse for Arthur but if he was having second thoughts... "Are you sure about this Arthur? We can always-"

"No, no I'm sure," Arthur said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "This is for the best. John was never able to be a father so long as Dutch, Hosea and I were around. I think somehow he always deferred that responsibility to the leader of the gang. But now he is the leader of his own gang." Arthur nodded, as if to console himself. "It's better this way."

Charles gripped Arthur's shoulder in a show of support but Arthur ducked his head behind his hat. Avoiding eye contact. Charles didn't like lying to John and Arthur knew that, Arthur had been obnoxiously apologetic when he asked Charles to look into finding John, and to give his brother propper closure by digging a fake a grave for him. But Arthur was also convinced that letting John continue to believe that he was dead, was the only way for John Marston to really grow up. For his younger brother to finally step out of the gang's shadow and step up to being a full adult.

Charles, on the other hand, wasn't convinced it was the right thing to do but it wasn't his place to interfere. Tho seeing how well John had transitioned to his new life did give some validity to Arthur's scheme. Arthur knew John better than Charles and after seeing how John had adapted to his new life, well, maybe Arthur had a point. Tho it didn't make losing the last members of his family any easier for Arthur. And this time Arthur was doing the unthinkable, he was willingly stepping away. It took an act of courage born of grief for Arthur to do that. To turn away because others were simply better off without him.

But Charles knew Arthur had a depressing masochistic streak that fueled his actions. and the moment Arthurs resolve weekend and he inevitably began to doubt his "plan" Charles would be there for him. But for now, Charles would lift a different burden from Arthur's shoulders.

"I know how devastated you were after McCree's death." Charles consoled, changing the conversation, tho only just. "and that because faking your death meant you were unable to get your other horses," Charles said gently, as way of introduction. "I found someone to help ease some of that loss."

Confused, Arthur looked over to Charles who gestured down the path.

Arthur froze as he saw the vibrant red of a young Arabian mare. She flicked her head up at his approach in a show of spirit and Arthur murmured quietly as he reverently stroked her glossy coat. Freshly brushed... "Charles," Arthur whispered as his voice dried up in his throat.

An Arabian was not a good horse for an outlaw, naturally to skittish to be a great companion in a shoot out but Charles had always known Arthur secretly wanted one. And they weren't outlaws anymore.

"Thank you, Charles." Arthur rasped. "For everything."


	5. Chapter 5 Rebuilding

Rebuilding

* * *

Javier Escuella member of the notorious Van Der Linde Gang, has finally been captured! the headline read. Arthur read and reread the article, each read through he turned a half shade paler.

Arthur felt it in his gut, John was in danger.

He paced around the kitchen of his ranch homestead, trying to calm himself. Maybe he was overreacting? Maybe he was simply feeling guilty for abandoning John.

The back door creaked open and snapped shut as Charles lumbered in from working outside. He brushed a hand across his sweaty forehead but paused at seeing Arthur.

"Everything alright Arthur?" He asked smooth and calm, tho eyebrows pinching together in worry.

Arthur allowed himself a breath. He must be overreacting, John was safe living as Jim Milton...

"Ah, it's nothing." Arthur assured without making eye-contact.

Charles boots shifted and without looking up, Arthur knew Charles was now leaning on one foot with his arms crossed, delivering a doubtfull glare at him. A disapproving hum only solidified the image in his head but Arthur still refused to look.

"I'm not going to force you Arthur." Charles said lowly, the voice and footfalls carrying him over to the sink followed by the faucet being turned on.

Arthur scowled. "It's nothing, I'm just..." Arthur looked at the newspaper again. "It's just a hunch. Andrew Milton, our good buddy from the Pinkertons, back in the day, is now with the FBI. He's hunting down Vander Linde Gang members."

"And you think he may come after us?" Charles asked and Arthur finally snapped his head up.

"What? Well no, um, maybe." He said weekly. Honestly, them being in danger hadn't really crossed his mind. "It's, well it's John I worry about. He's living right in the thick of it. I just know he'll get caught up in all this somehow."

Charles nodded drying his hands on a cloth. "You want me to head out and see if everything is alright?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, they may recognize you... but they have absolutely no reason to suspect I'm still alive." Arthur pursed his lips together in concentration. "So they won't be looking for me at all." Arthur stood abruptly and approached Charles to lay a heavy hand on his shoulder, smiling sadly. "This time it has to be me."

He left the next morning on Buell. Charles insisted that a flashy Arabian was not going to help keep Arthur from drawing attention to himself and Arthur didn't argue.

He rode past Colter as quickly as he could and when he reached the familiar town of Strawberry, he got another local paper. "Bill Williamson, Van Der Linde outlaw, captured!" Arthur didn't wait to read the entire article. He jumped on Buell's back and ran, full gallup towards the Marston ranch.

By the time he arrived, John was already in a shootout. They came from everywhere, flowing in deadly waves towards John's ranch. Surrounding the farmhouse so densely that Arthur couldn't get close enough to help protect his brother and family much more than pick off slow agents from behind.

"They killed him!" Someone shouted, young, frantic and angry. Jack maybe? And it turned Arthur's blood cold. Was he already too late? Was John dead? But as the shooting continued, Arthur saw John providing cover for Abigail and Jack as they headed for the barn.

The shooting stopped as John disappeared inside. As Arthur approached the posse, he realized no one was paying him any mind. They were all to focused on John and simply assumed he was one of them. Casually, Arthur dismounted and taking his Lancaster repeater, he counted their number... More people then he had bullets for. And once he was out of rounds, he wouldn't be able to reload fast enough to avoid getting shot. He'd be killed, hell, even John wasn't likely to get out of this alive.

The sound of horse hooves drew Arthur's attention back to the present. John had sent his family off to safety. Arthur's eyes pricked with tears and heart clenched with anger. John was finally doing right by his family.

Why couldn't they just leave John alone?

As the barn door swung open, John bravely stepped forward. His steps sure yet stiff, as tho he would never fall. In that moment, Arthur had never been prouder of his little brother. A father and husband prepared to fight to the last breath. So familiar yet so different to what he had been under Dutch's rule.

When John raised his pistol, Arthur emptied 14 bullets into the backs of the FBI, catching them by surprise. Quickly Arthur began to reload as John gunned down a half dozen more but it was too late. Arthur could only stare down the barrel of a gun as the agent on horseback raised his gun and... was shot from behind? Looking past the slumped form of the agent's body, Arthur saw Charles galloping towards them, gunning down the last of the army around them.

Giddy relief flooded Arthur's system and his knees grew weak as Charles dashed over to him. "Arthur, you alright?" he asked. Eyes searching Arthur for bullet wounds or blood, "John? Are You?"

"I'm fine." John growled.

"So am I." Arthur said, finding his voice again. "Glad you came."

"Like I was really going to stay behind as you ran off into danger." Charles scoffed. "You know me better than that." Arthur just nodded in agreement.

Abigail and Jack rode back towards them soon after and, wasting no time, Abigail jumped down into John's waiting arms and about hugged the life out of him. Arthur gave Abigail a sheepish grin as she turned towards him.

"Thank you, Arthur." Was all she could get out around her tears. But the worlds were enough, warm and sincere.

They found a body that closely resembled John's. With the approximate height, weight and skin tone. John swapped close with the poor bastard before Charles and Arthur shot up the man's face beyond recognition. Perhaps it would be enough to make everyone think John Marston was finally dead. Unfortunately, the ruse of John's death, also meant they couldn't burry Uncle.

The thought didn't sit well with any of them but it was unavoidable. Charles stood close to Arthur, warm and supportive, as they paid their respect to the man for the last time.

They all rode North and then, turned east to go around Strawberry. (Just in case they were being tracked.) John rode with Arthur on Buell because talking John's horse would arouse too much suspicion, but after the first few hours of travel, the arrangement was making them both irritable. Although it was nice to see John again, the ride was beginning to feel a bit like a constant hug. And Arthur appreciated being hugged about as much as John appreciated giving hugs.

Despite the forced contact and irritability, John quickly forgave Arthur for faking his death. Maybe it was because his "death" was a key reason they all survived in the end or maybe it was the sheer relief that Arthur was actually still around to save his stupid ass. Arthur didn't know but he wasn't going to push his luck by asking.

They set up camp in the eastern grizzlies. Eating a cold meal together of salted meat and corn but it was a family meal they all cherished.

The next morning Arthur woke to the low whispers of Charles and John talking.

"Last I heard it was around here." John was saying. They were talking about a horse or something. Arthur wasn't completely alert for the first bit of the conversation.

Arthur crawled out from his tent, buttoning his shirt and nodded to them both as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Arthur." John welcomed, his voice held the same familiar gravely timber he always had and Arthur hid a sly smile behind a sip of coffee. It was good to hear John's voice again but hell if he was going to say anything about it.

"Charles tells me you two have a ranch."

Arthur sat down on a log with a grunt, showing his age. "Sure, Charles and I have quite the ranch out west. Been experimenting with mixing breeds like Arabians and Appaloosa. We've been getting quite a reputation for well-trained horses. There's a place for you, Jack and Abigail if you'd like." Arthur offered, looking up to Charles who nodded in agreement.

But to Arthur's surprise, John hesitated.

He ducked his head slightly before sighing. "Actually, I think I may try my hand at cattle ranching."

Arthur smiled, tho this time his grin was too wide to hide behind the cup. And as John glared at him, Arthur settled for a rare bout of vulnerable sincerity. "I'm proud of you John. What you've built. The man you've become." He trailed off, cursing his sudden sentimentality.

But John just nodded gratefully. "Thank you. You know, I never really saw my self living this life but it ain't so bad. It kind of, well, it agrees with me actually." he gave a raspy chuckle and looked away before changing the subject entirely. "Charles and I were thinking, since we are short on funds and horses, how's about we go out and catch a wild horse. There's one not too far from where I've been hearing about. Suppose to be a real brute."

Arthur hummed interestedly but mulled things over in his head quietly.

"John is in need of a horse." Charles pointed out, "It won't be wise to purchase a horse anyplace east of Colter at the moment. It's too risky, we need to lay low. But at the same time, we could do with a fresh broodmare or stallion at our ranch. The trade-off." Charles continued. "would be we give John one of our horses from the ranch in exchange for the one we catch."

Arthur nodded, considering their situation. At the ranch, they had some great cow horses, born cutters ready for life on a cattle farm. The speed and handling of an Arabian with the working horse temperament of an Appaloosa. They'd be perfect for John and his new life. "That alright with you John?" he asked and John nodded.

"Then it's a deal."

They took a day to track down the mysterious horse John had heard rumors of. Some ghostly beauty that Arthur assumed was more tall tale than anything. That is until Arthur about lost the ability to breathe as he saw the Perlino, gracefully high stepping in agitation next to the foggy mist of the waterfall. It reared half-heartedly and out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Charles stop John from pulling out his lasso.

Arthur cautiously approached, whispering reverently, soothing the startled beast. It snorted, heaving out a gust of breath and for a moment Arthur felt a pang of loss as he was reminded of McCree. "You're alright, boah." Arthur said, half to himself. "Everything is going to be ok."

Finally, the horse reared up. The Andalusian's proud strong neck, arching up as it's front legs thrashed out violently before the powerful animal dashing off towards the waterfall. Arthur trailed after it, undeterred by the outburst.

"Easy." Arthur cooed as the frightened animal maneuvered itself into a dead end where the waterfall met rock.

Steam seemed to glow off the horse's back as it stood panting in picturesque beauty. Arthur slowly trudged forward, hands dropping to his side. "I'm not going to hurt you." Arthur vowed, making eye contact with the dark eye of the pale horse.

Arthur stroked along its neck as it calmed slowly. It starred intensely back at him, as though the animal could see through him. Could make out his very character. "It's going to be ok," Arthur said. Now referring to everyone. To John and Abigail, Jack and Charles the horse and even to himself.

Arthur knew he had the perfect moment to hop on the horse and ride it till it excepted him but he hesitated. Instead, he allowed his senses to fully absorb the moment. The sound of the thundering falls and the smell of moss and mist. The gentle flecks of droplets and moisture in the air that gave the pale glossy coat an ethereal shimmer.

"Come on boah." Arthur coaxed, backing away. The horse's ears flicked up curiously and after a heartbeat or two, began to ghost after him. It's head sinking low and calm. "That's it." Eventually, he was near enough again that the velvety lips of the Andalusian experimentally gummed at his shirt collar. Arthur encouraged its curiosity by slipping the inquisitive horse a bit of hay. Over his shoulder, Arthur heard a mumbled 'what the hell?' of surprise from John, but he ignored it. Not since Boudicca, had Arthur experience such a connection with a horse.

"Let's go home." Arthur said, brushing along its forelock before turning away to give a whistle, he didn't need to look back to know the horse was following after him.

When they finally arrived home. John rode Buell and Arthur rode the Perlino Andalusian that Arthur had named Tacitus. They both rode tall in the saddle, proud, like kings of old... and they had never looked more like brothers.


End file.
